Cry
by Wonder and Ashes
Summary: If grief can do one thing, it's bring enemies together. "The Body" AU. Oneshot. Winner at Round 31 of the Sunnydale Memorial Fanfiction Awards for Best Angst - Spuffy.


**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Story Notes**: Response to a challenge. For the purposes of this fic, "Crush" never happened. Probably got some lines from the episodes wrong, and there's probably a few typos. Please ignore those. I'll go back and fix them later.

* * *

Death is something I have to deal with every day, even when I don't want to. And that's most of the time.

I especially hate it when death is in the form of my mortal enemy, and he's within a mile radius of my house. Where he's been frequenting lately. Luckily he's only interested in Mom and her hot coca, weird and Twilight zone-ish as that is. Seriously, how did he and Mom get on friendly terms?

And why does he run around during the day when he's more likely to become a big pile of dust? Not that I have a problem with that, because a dusty Spike would really make my day…

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I'm standing on my front porch, keys in one hand and groceries in the other. The last thing I expected to see was him tearing towards me with a smoking cloth over his head.

Spike reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of Mom's soap opera digests. "Wanted to return this to your mum before the episode tonight."

Right. One thing they have in common: they both love over-the-top soap operas. Can't get any weirder than that. "Fine. Hand it over and-"

My hand goes to grab it but he holds it just out of reach. "Hang on. I need to ask her something 'bout last week's episode. I missed part of it since I was babysittin' the Bit, and the info in here ain't all that clear."

I sigh, recalling how Dawn's been frequenting Spike's crypt a lot lately. It's not the last place I would want her to be – that would be Glory's hideout, or wherever it is she lives – but it's not in my list of Top Ten Places to Hide Dawn. Though for some crazy reason, like with Mom, Dawn trusts Spike, and…I kinda trust him, too. A little bit. At least with them.

Because he seems to like them well enough; enough that he won't hand Dawn over to Glory or get Mom indirectly killed. He's the only one other than me who stands some kind of chance against Glory, and I need him by my side right now, not pissed off at me. And that means I have to play nice, at least until Glory's gone. Helps that he's been playing nice too for some strange reason…

"You can come in, but not for long," I tell him as I slide the key into the lock. "Mom and I need to get dinner cooking for tonight."

"Fine with me." He shrugs and follows me in.

"Ooh." I notice a bunch of flowers left on the unit right by the door, and I pull out the card left in them. They're from Brian. I smile as I read what's inside the tag. "Some guys are still getting it right."

I sense Spike peering over my shoulder. "Joyce got a new man in her life? You want me to size him up for you? I could give him a right good scare if his intentions aren't good."

"I can do my own sizing up, thanks," I say. "At least I know he's not a robot. Hey, speaking of robots…"

"That was what threw me through the window the other night?"

I laugh at the memory. "You had that coming. You shouldn't have even been at the party in the first place."

"Yeah, well…" He shrugs, looking away awkwardly which is weird in itself. Spike never looks awkward. But he has been acting strange lately… "How's your man-nurse?"

Ben. He saw me with Ben that night. He acted really hostile towards him, even after I explained he helped with Mom's recovery and then looked after Dawn at the hospital… "Not dating. I realized that I can't attach myself to these guys just because I want to feel something. That's what happened with Parker and Riley, and look how well those blew up in my face."

"Just wait 'til the right guy comes along." He's still looking away. Is there something on my face?

"Yeah." His genuine response surprises me and I find myself looking away, too. "One who doesn't ditch me after one night, or gets off on letting vamps bite him, or builds a robot girlfriend-"

"Say what now?" He looks up at me.

"Oh, that robot girl, April," I explain. "She was made by this Warren guy we went to school with. He made her because he couldn't get a date – and then ditched her when he did. She was looking for him, and things didn't turn out great for him. At least Katrina knows what kind of guy he is now."

"That just reeks of desperation," says Spike. "Love can't be faked or programmed. No matter how much you'll kid yourself, you'll always be miserable 'cause you don't have the real thing. Could never settle for something like that, even if the real thing is out of reach." He looks away again, and I can't help but feel that his words have some kind of hidden message in them.

I want to tell him that he can't love without a soul, but then I remember Drusilla and how heartbroken he was when she dumped him, and my words die in my throat.

Only then do I realize that we've both been standing by the door for a good few minutes. I'm surprised that Mom hasn't appeared to greet us yet. She's probably just upstairs taking a nap.

"Mom's around here somewhere," I tell him. I turn and take the groceries into the kitchen. "If she's asleep, don't wake her up. You'll just have to come back tonight, or whatever." I wait for the protest to come, but it doesn't. Odd. "I don't want you hanging around the house like a nasty smell I can't get rid of no matter what kind of air freshener I use."

That doesn't get a rise out of him. Seriously, what's wrong with him? I don't think Spike's ever gone for this long without talking. The man – no, vampire – seriously loves the sound of his own voice.

After putting the groceries down I turn to go back into the hall where he's probably still standing. "Spike? Are you even listening-?" But just as I turn the corner he's suddenly in front of me.

"Buffy…" Before I fully realize what he's doing, my hands are gently taken in his. "Pet…just…keep calm…you have to see it, but…you don't want to…who would want to see that…"

His eyes bore into mine, like a pair of bright blue headlights, and I know that his eyes have always been intense, but the intensity has been jacked up to eleven… "Spike…" Something's wrong. I've never seen Spike this serious; like he's trying to hold it together and break something to me gently all in one go.

Break something to me… It hits me that I haven't seen or heard Mom, and Spike likes Mom, so he'd only be like this if…

"Mom…" I push past him, yanking my hands from his as I tear around the corner and into the living room.

I see her lying on the couch, like she fell there suddenly. Her eyes wide open. She's not moving.

She's not blinking.

She's not even breathing.

No.

She was cleared months ago…she was better…getting better…

No…

I don't know how but I'm suddenly in front of her, shaking her. "Mom? Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom… MOM!" Nothing. No response.

She can't be gone. She's Mom. Mom doesn't leave. Mom's supposed to always be there, nagging me when I come home late from slaying, giving me advice when I ask, doing my washing, cooking, cleaning, hugging, being there… She's supposed to grow old and live out the rest of her long life in a comfy retirement home, where she'll drift away peacefully at ninety-something while I'm there holding her hand after sending away her grandchildren…

She can't be gone. Not now.

Phone. 911. I launch to my feet and turn.

"No, she's not breathing. Not conscious. Her eyes are open, but she's not respondin'…" Spike's already on the phone. I forgot he was here.

Why is here still here? Why is he calling? Shouldn't he be laughing at me and my misfortune? That's what enemies do, right?

But he liked Mom. It's just for Mom, not for me.

"What's she saying?" I can hear that it's a woman on the other end.

"Askin' for an address," says Spike.

My address? What's that again? "Um…" I turn back to Mom. She'd know the address. Where I live. No, where _we_ live. Because she's still alive. She's not gone.

Spike knows it. Of course he knows it. He's here a lot. "Sixteen Thirty Revello Drive."

"It-it's a house," I add. But it's all houses along here. "Near Hadley."

Spike nods, but he doesn't tell the operator. Why? She needs to know where Revello is, so she can send a team to the right house without them getting lost. If they get lost, they might not make it in time, and Mom will…

No. Mom's not gonna die. I won't allow it. They're going to get here, Mom's gonna make it, and everything will be fine. It has to be.

"They're sendin' a unit," Spike says to me. He turns away. The operator's talking to him. "Just me and the daughter." Another question. "No, we didn't see her fall. Don't think she fell. We came home and found her lyin' on the sofa." More talking. "Hold on." He turns back to me. "Can you give her CPR?"

"Yes." I can do that. Giles taught me after…after I died…and now Mom might be dying… "I think. No, I don't remember."

"Tilt the head, press down…" As Spike talks I remember. It comes back to me. How does Spike know when vampires can't breathe? Angel didn't know…he didn't try and save me…

I hurry over to Mom. I move her off the couch and onto the floor. She won't be comfortable when she wakes up, but at least she'll be alive.

I start. Breathe once. Twice. Press down one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight times.

Repeat.

Something cracks.

"I broke something!"

I hear Spike tell the operator. The operator replies. "She says it's not important. Is she breathin'?"

He looks sad. Hopeless. Why is he hopeless? Mom's not gonna die. "No."

"The paramedics should be here in a mo, luv," Spike tells me. He listens again. "Yeah, the body's cold…"

"No! Mom. Mom's cold." She shouldn't be cold. She should be warm. Being warm means she's alive. Being cold… "Should I make her warm?"

Spike repeats the question. Another pause. "She says the best thing to do is to wait for the cavalry, pet," says Spike. "If she's not respondin' to CPR, there's not much else you can do."

"There's always something I can do." I'm the Slayer. I save lives. But I can't save Mom's. What kind of Slayer am I? I let the anger take hold. "When will they be here?"

He repeats the question again. "Says they're nearby. Shouldn't be long now, luv."

I look outside. I can't see them. I don't know what to do. I never know what to do. I always ask Mom or…

Giles. "I have to make a call."

Spike talks to the operator. He nods and hangs up. "Who d'you need to call, pet?"

"Giles. I should do it. You sit with Mom. In case she wakes up." I get up and walk over to the phone. As he passes he gives my hand a little squeeze. I barely notice. His hand's cold. Like Mom.

"Probably best," says Spike. He sits next to Mom. "Liable to come over here and stake me without explanation."

Why? Spike's not doing anything wrong.

I go to press the buttons but the numbers are jumbled. I can't see them properly. They're blurry. And I can't remember his number… I press speed-dial. It rings.

"_Hello?_"

"Giles, you have to come." He has to. He'll know what to do. He found Jenny. But Jenny was dead, and Mom's not. But he'll still know what to do.

"_Buffy?_"

"She's at the house." I hang up. I don't know what else to tell him. He'll know when he gets here.

I turn back to Mom. Spike's still next to her. He's not touching her, but then he's cold and Mom's already cold, and he can't make her colder. That won't help.

"You should wait outside," says Spike. "Can here the ambulance comin'. They'll be here in a tick."

I nod. I go to the door and open it. The street's empty. When I walked in here, everything was fine. And everything will be fine again. The paramedics will make Mom better. They have to. The _need_ to.

The ambulance pulls up. The men climb out. I watch them get their things. I see them hurrying towards me. They're mouths are moving but I can't hear them speaking. Have I gone death?

"She's in here." That's all I can say. I hope it's the right thing. I turn and lead them inside.

They hurry over to Mom. Spike moves away and comes to stand by me.

"I'm getting no pulse."

They empty their bags.

"How long has she been like this?" asks one.

How long? I don't know…

"We found her like this," says Spike. "Been a few minutes. Possibly longer. She's cold, so a while, I guess."

"She wasn't conscious?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"I'm bagging her."

Bagging her? No, they can't bag her. She's not dead. "What?"

"We're gonna intubate. Just trying to get her to breathe, all right?"

I nod. Good. Not bagging her. Good.

Spike's still next to me. He takes my hand in his, tighter this time. He squeezes. Reassuring. His hand is cold. Why does it have to be cold? Mom's cold, too. Cold means death.

But…he's still with us. He's cold and he's still with us. Being cold doesn't mean anything. Mom's still with us, too.

I squeeze back.

A paramedic turns to me. "Is this your mother?"

"Yes." I nod. "I'm her daughter."

"Does she have any serious physical health problems?" he asks. "Any history of heart disease?"

"She had a brain tumour a few months ago," says Spike. He always knows what to say. Always loved the sound of his own voice. I'm kinda liking it at the moment. He knows what to say. He's like Giles. Maybe it's a British thing.

I add, "But they removed it. She's fine now. She…she's been fine."

They put a plastic mask on her face and begin. She has to be fine. They're gonna make her better. They have to.

Coughs. Gasps.

"I got her! My god, we got her!"

"Let's get her on the truck now. I'm calling ahead."

It's going to be OK.

"I'm giving your mother a clean bill of health."

Everything's fine.

"I'm so happy you found me in time."

OK. Alright. Fine…

I blink. Silence. They're still trying. But she's not responding.

Spike brings his other hand up to my shoulder. Squeezes again.

"She's cold."

"Call it."

They start packing up, putting the equipment away. I look at Mom. She's still lying there, not breathing. Still cold. Why aren't they helping her? She needs their help. Why are they giving up? They need to save her because I can't. I can't save Mom. Why can't I save her?

One paramedic stands in front of me.

"What do we do now?" I ask. I squeeze Spike's hand again. He squeezes back and doesn't let go. He knows something.

Maybe he knew it all along.

"I'm sorry," says the paramedic. "But I have to tell you that your mother is dead."

Dead.

Mom. Dead.

"When?" Spike asks the question. I can't. I can't say anything.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead…

"It looks like she died a good while before you two found her," the man replied. "There's…nothing you could have done."

Spike's hands tighten. He's angry. I'm not. I don't know what I am.

She…she can't be gone. Mom doesn't go. She doesn't leave. She's not like Dad.

"How?" Spike asks another question.

"An aneurysm. From what we can tell, it caused clotting in the area where the tumour was taken out. A complication from the surgery."

Surgery. Aneurysm. This could happen? The doctor never told us. He may have told Mom. But Mom never told me.

But she's not dead. She can't be. They must be mistaken, or lying. I can't yell. I want to, but I can't. No air.

"I'm gonna call this right away." The man keeps talking. To Spike, I think. "The coroner's office may take a while. You should get your girlfriend to sit down. Give her a glass of water, and try not to disturb the body. Is there someone you can call?"

"She called someone," says Spike. "They're comin' over."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

Sorry? I haven't lost anyone. Spike's with me, and Mom's lying down in the living room. Resting. She's only resting. Not her eyes, because they're open. But people don't rest like that. Only when they're…

Dead.

Spike's in front of me. The two men are gone. The door's still open, but the light doesn't hit him. He's muttering. "They called you my…" He looks at me. Blue eyes. Soft. Tender. "You want me to get you that glass of water?"

I nod. "Where's Giles?"

"Comin'. You called him, remember?" Spike begins to lead me away from Mom. She should be left alone. At peace. She's at peace now. Not hurting anymore.

My stomach lurches. We're not out of the living room yet – very nearly – but I can't help it. I sink to the floor and throw up vomit. I feel Spike next to me, holding the hair away from my face. His other hand rubs my back.

"Easy, pet. Easy… 'S alright, sweetheart. Just let it out…"

Pet names. When did he start giving me those?

"Sick." I look at the patch on the floor.

"I'm gonna get something to clean it up. Your water, too. You stay there." He leaves.

Everyone leaves. But he's coming back. Spike always comes back, even when I don't want him to. But I want him to.

He comes back with paper towels. Lays them across the sick. Hands me a glass of water. I drink, slowly. "Thanks."

Spike sits next to me again. He rubs my back. "Watcher should be here soon. He can talk to the coroner. You can…" He swallows. "You won't like this, pet, but you'll have to tell the Bit…"

Dawn. I drop my glass. It lands on the paper towels and doesn't smash. The water spills. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now.

"No…" I shakily get to my feet. "Dawn…she's…Mom's…"

"Buffy…" Spike rises with me. "Buffy, listen to me, pet…"

I turn and punch him in the gut. He stumbles back against the wall. I punch his chest. Again. And again. And again.

I need to fight something. I can't fight anything. I was supposed to fight to keep Mom safe…keep Dawn safe…

There's nothing to fight but him. I know I shouldn't. He's here for me and he's helping me. I don't know why, because he's a vampire, and he shouldn't help. He's evil. Soulless. He should be laughing, not comforting me, talking for me, getting me water, cleaning up, crying…

He's crying. But I keep on punching. Not his face, though. Can't punch is face. Too full of sorrow.

"She's…"

"I know, pet," he says. How can he still talk? "Just take it all out on me. That's it. That's my girl…"

I keep punching, but I get weaker. Why am I still punching? It's no use.

Suddenly he's pulled away from me. Someone else is there, trying to stand between us. Giles. There's a stake in his hand…

No…

No more death. No more dying. Not now. Spike's helping, not laughing, not killing, he didn't kill her, couldn't, wouldn't…

"NO!" I hit the stake away. "Giles, no! He didn't do it! He was with me when we found her. It wasn't him. It was an aneurysm. She…they said…"

Giles looks at me. I see his anger dying and confusion taking its place. "Buffy, what on earth are you talking about? I saw you punching Spike-"

"Rupert, turn around." Spike's voice. Calm. He doesn't care that Giles almost killed him. Why doesn't he care? I do, and I didn't even like him ten minutes ago.

Now…

Giles turns. "Oh my god, Joyce!" He hurries over, he's going to touch her, move her…

"No, don't. It's too late," I tell him. But he doesn't hear me. He's panicking. I'm panicking. They told me not to touch her and he's touching her. What if it makes it worse? How can it make it worse when she's… "We're not supposed to move the body!"

Only a body.

Mom.

Only a body.

Gone.

Dead.

I feel arms around me. They're warm. Giles. Holding me, rocking me, crying with me…

A sickening crunch.

I turn and so does Giles.

Spike stands behind us with his arm in the wall.

"Sorry. Didn't know who else to blame, so I blamed the wall."

He's crying.

We're all crying.

* * *

Giles gets me another glass of water. I slowly begin to calm down.

Mom's dead. Gone. But I can't think about that now.

I need to think about Dawn, and how I'm going to tell her.

"I'll wait here for the coroner," says Giles. "What did the paramedics say again?"

"An aneurysm," says Spike. He's got a bandage around his fist and is picking up the broken plaster. "Caused a blood clot where the tumour was taken out. Complication from the surgery."

"Right." Giles looks away. "Sorry for…"

"You saw red. Don't blame you." Spike wipes his eyes. Still crying.

I need to stop crying, too. I need to be strong for Dawn.

"I need to…"

"Fetch Dawn. Yes." He sighs. "I will call the others and we can meet at the hospital."

I nod and climb to my feet. I make for the door before I pause and turn.

Spike's still standing there by the hole in the wall. Looking down. Trying not to cry. He was strong before; calling, talking to the paramedics, keeping it together…

He must've known she was gone. He's a vampire; he can hear heartbeats, smell blood…

He didn't say anything to me. I don't think I would've listened if he'd tried.

Holding it together. I need someone who can, for Dawn. I don't think I can. I walk over to him and touch his shoulder. "Spike?" He looks up, and I see the tear stains. See the sorrow and sadness in his eyes… "Could you come…?"

He nods. "Yeah. I'll come for the Bit." He keeps on nodding as I lead him out the door. He only remembers at the last second to grab his blanket so he doesn't get burnt.

We drive over to the school in silence. Nothing's said. What can we say to each other at a time like this?

It isn't long before we arrive at the school. I park up and help Spike get into the building. I explain the situation at the main office, and they point me to Dawn's classroom. Telling them wasn't hard. Not that scary. I calm a little.

I walk down the empty halls with Spike following behind me. There're a couple of kids about, but not many. I find Dawn's classroom. Art class. She's painting and talking to a boy.

"You get Dawn. I'll explain," I tell Spike before we walk in through the open door.

The teacher looks up. I can tell by her expression that she's seen what I look like and has realized it's not good news. I whisper in her ear so Dawn doesn't overhear. She says that she's sorry before signing the forms the office gave to me.

I look up and see Spike with Dawn. He's talking to her, saying that we need her to step outside. Dawn hesitates but lets Spike guide her. She knows something's wrong. Spike's being serious, so she must know.

Because I've never seen him serious, and neither has she.

We're outside the classroom when she speaks. "I thought Mom was going to pick me up? What's going on? Something's going on."

"The car, Dawn." I take her by the arm and begin to lead her away.

She stands her ground. "No. Tell me what's happened. It's something bad, because Spike's with you and you're not yelling at him."

"It's…bad." She needs to take the hint that we can't do this here, with people watching…her classmates, her teacher, the kids in the hall…

"What's happened?" she asks, still oblivious that her whole world has just changed forever. "Was it Glory? Where's Mom? Why isn't she here?"

I have to tell her now. I don't have a choice. Spike steps forwards and takes Dawn's hand, and I take the other. He takes my hand, too, like we're in a circle. "Mom… There was a…complication…from the operation…to remove the tumour…"

"Is she OK?" She looks at both of us, me then Spike, me then Spike again, and back to me. "She's OK, right? She has to be OK, doesn't she?"

I can't answer, and neither can Spike. I see him squeezing her hand, like he did to mine. "We need to go, Bit…"

Dawn shakes her head and tries to pull away from us. "No…"

We both hold firm. She can't run away again. Not now. "Dawn… Mom…died."

"No…" She screws her eyes shut, trying to block us out, our words, her tears, everything… "No, no, no, no, no! It's not true! You're lying! She's fine and she's gonna pick me up!"

I want that, too. I want Mom to show up at the school, alive and well, to pick Dawn up. To pick us all up. But she's not coming. She never will.

"Dawn, please…"

"Nibblet…"

Dawn keeps fighting. Spike has to let go in case he accidentally hurts her and sets off the chip. I keep hold of Dawn until her legs finally give and she falls to the floor, crying in messes of sobs and screeches. I hug her, trying to make it better. But I know I can never make it better.

All I can do is try. Spike tries too and encircles us both.

* * *

Dawn calms down by the time we reach the morgue wing of the hospital. She doesn't want to walk, so Spike carries her on his back. I spot Giles in the waiting room, and we go over. Spike deposits Dawn onto one of the chairs before sitting down next to her. She doesn't hesitate to crawl into his lap, and he cradles her.

I walk over to where Giles is pacing. "Anything?"

"She's been admitted," he says. "The surgeon who performed her operation – Dr. Kriegel – is seeing to her."

I nod. "The others…?"

"Are on their way." He looks over at Dawn. "She didn't take it well."

"That could never be a question." And it wasn't. Just an observation. "Giles…when the others come…I know Wills, Tara and Anya will keep quiet, but…Xander…if he sees Spike…"

He'll act up. Say nasty things. I haven't noticed until now just how mean-spirited Xander can be when it comes to Spike. It makes me guilty because I can be the same, but…at least I know when to quit it. I haven't said much to him since he kept an eye on Mom and Dawn, and then helped find Dawn…

But Xander might. Even now.

"I have already informed them of Spike's presence," says Giles. "I told them not to say anything."

"He helped me," I say. I have to say it. "I was a mess; I couldn't keep it together and I couldn't listen to what they were saying. Not fully, anyway. He helped. He called them, told them everything, helped me stay calm…or calmer than I would've been."

"It is remarkable." Giles looks over at Spike and Dawn, observing Spike's tenderness with her.

"He liked Mom." I almost flinch at my use of past tense. "He likes Dawn." I can't give any other explanation than that.

It isn't long before I hear footsteps approaching. I look up. Willow, Xander, Anya and Tara. They spot us and walk over. Spike looks up and sees them, before telling Dawn. He helps her stand.

Hugs all around. I hug Willow, then Xander. Willow moves on to join Tara in hugging Dawn. Anya hugs me, then Giles. Willow hugs Giles, and Tara hugs me. Anya suddenly latches herself onto Spike, and Tara joins her in the hug. Willow hesitates, but then hugs him, too. Spike doesn't know how to react, but he doesn't say anything. He's able to hug them awkwardly back.

I watch Xander as he watches them. He's not angry. Just uncertain. Of course I don't expect him to hug Spike like they're all buddy-buddy with each other, although the acknowledgement they give each other with just a look takes me by surprise.

We sit. And wait.

* * *

An aneurysm, after all. I want to yell at the doctor for not doing his job right, but he explained that there was always a risk of complications. Mom knew that, too. I guess she didn't want to tell me and worry me. I get it, since I had enough on my plate at the time.

It's just like with me and slaying. I never told her at first because I didn't want to worry her. And there's always a risk involved in slaying.

There's a risk involved in everything if you really think about it.

At least Mom didn't suffer. That's what the doctor said, anyway. That she didn't suffer. She died peacefully.

He claims I couldn't have done anything if I'd been there, but I can't bring myself to believe him. If I had been there and I'd been quick…

Dawn goes to pee. I want to go after her and make sure she's OK, but she needs space. To process this.

"I wish that Joyce didn't die!" Anya suddenly blurts out. "Because she was nice, and now we all hurt."

"Thanks." I rub her knee. She's trying to make us feel better in her own way. I can't fault her for that. And really, the line between the right and wrong thing to say is incredibly blurred in this kind of situation.

Willow, Xander and Anya go to get some things to eat. Tara takes a seat next to me. "If you want to talk… I've done this before."

I turn to look at her. "You have?"

"My mother died when I was seventeen."

Seventeen. Older than Dawn, younger than me. She was the same age I was when…when I was forced to send Angel to Hell.

Losing Mom is harder than sending my boyfriend to Hell. As it should be. Because Mom's family, and he was just my boyfriend. Who left me. So I could have a normal life.

When has my life ever been normal?

This, tragically enough, is as normal as my life is ever gonna get. Because right now I'm just another daughter who's lost her mother. And not even to anything supernatural.

"I didn't know," I tell Tara. "I'm sorry."

"No, I didn't mean…" She pauses, trying to put her thoughts to words. "I know it's not my place, but… There are things, thoughts and reactions I had that I couldn't understand or even try to explain to anyone else. Thoughts that made me feel like I was losing it, or like I was some kind of horrible person. I know it's different for you…because it's always different, but…if you ever need…"

"Thanks. Was it sudden?"

"No…and yes. It's always sudden."

Sudden. You don't expect it to happen but then it does, even if the person's ill and you know it'll happen sooner or later. Because you never expect it to happen to you, no matter what circumstances you're in. You just want the people you love to get better and not die; never to leave you.

If you know they're gonna die and you accept it, then you've given up. We all have to keep on fighting. Living.

I can't give up on Dawn. I go to find her. She's in the morgue, in front of Mom's body. There's a vamp there, too. I stake it, make a mess.

The sheet falls from Mom. I watch as Dawn reaches out towards her.

* * *

Spike patrols. I make phone calls. Plan the funeral. There's not gonna be a wake.

It's a week later. Dawn doesn't speak as I talk to Giles about the plans. She just finishes her dinner and leaves, heading up to her room. I've tried speaking to her before, but she doesn't respond.

She responds to Spike. I'll get him to talk to her when he's done with patrol.

He comes in. There's a smidge of blood on him. "Demon this time. A few vamps. Not many. Things are quiet."

"Quiet's good," I say. "Nothing bad can happen now. What about Glory?"

"Haven't heard from her." Spike shrugs. "Take it as a blessin' for now."

I see Xander stand in the living room, looking right at Spike. I should've know it wouldn't be long. He's kept quiet for a week. That's apparently Xander's limit. "You know Buffy's not paying you for this, right?"

"Yeah, I know," says Spike. He doesn't turn away from me. "I offered to do this, remember?"

"Can't imagine why."

"Xander, not now," I say. Willow looks hesitant to say anything – take sides – and Giles cleans his glasses like he always does when he's stressed.

"No, I say this now." He walks over to Spike, walks around so they're face to face since Spike won't turn, and pokes the vampire in the chest. "Don't think I'm not onto you, Dead Jr., 'cause I am. You think you can use Joyce's death and our grieving as an excuse to get close to us, but it ain't gonna work."

"Xander…" Willow speaks up, but isn't brave enough to approach.

Spike finally locks eyes with Xander. "You think I'm not grievin', too? That I'm not affected by this?"

"Vamps can't-"

"We _can_, you pillock!" Spike suddenly pushes Xander away, and gets zapped for his trouble. He winces, but not like he usually does. "We love, we grieve, we soddin' care 'bout those we care for! Joyce was… She was the only one out of you lot who didn't treat me like dirt… 'Sides the Bit and maybe Glinda, but… I liked her. She was a right nice lady, and it's not fair that she had to die like this. They should've bloody well taken me instead."

"Yeah, they really should've."

"Xander!" I pull him back and away from Spike. "Enough is enough. You really don't know when to _shut up_, do you?"

"I could've _saved_ her!"

The sudden proclamation makes us all pause. "What?" I look at Spike and see the guilt in his eyes.

Those same eyes that are full of tears. "If I'd been here…just a few hours earlier… Could've saved her…could've done something…"

"The doctor said that she couldn't be saved," says Giles. "It happened too fast. By the time she felt dizzy and unstable…"

"I would've known _before_ that!" Spike yells. "I'm a soddin' _vampire_! We smell blood! Hear it flowin' through veins. I would've known the _second_ it started happenin'! Then I could've gotten her to the hospital, had the doctors take care of her; I could've saved her, but I didn't because I wasn't in the right place at the right soddin' time!"

He's blaming himself for her death. But it wasn't his fault. "Spike-"

Before I know it there's a wad of cash in my hands. "Paid in advance." Then he punches another hole in the wall.

"Spike!" I'm not angry about the hole. But he needs to stop this now, before he hurts himself. "Spike, you can't blame yourself. It's not your fault. Mom died, and it's so easy to just blame yourself or someone else – get lost in what ifs and what you could've done – but that's not gonna help. That's not gonna change anything, and we have to live with that."

My words sink in. I've been blaming myself for the past week, and where has that got me? Nowhere. Mom's gone, and we just have to keep on living.

I remove Spike's hand from the wall and help him re-bandage it. He cries silently, and I offer him whatever comfort I can.

* * *

Funeral's over. Everywhere's dark. Everyone's gone.

All except one.

Spike approaches me after his patrol. "You alright?"

I nod. "I asked Aunt Arlene and she said it's OK for Dawn to stay with her. Just until I get things sorted."

"And defeat the bitch from Hell." Spike nods with me. "Never thought I'd see the day you listen to ol' Spike. My plans work."

"Sometimes."

He smirks a little. It's good seeing him back to his old self, at least a little bit. He's not going back to being a jerk. Yet.

"Just a couple of vamps. Nothing big," he says, then looks around. "You expecting anyone?"

I shake my head. "I just want to sit here. Make sure no one touches her grave."

"Understood." He nods again. "'Scuse me for bringin' it up, but I expected the Big Brooder to be here."

I flinch. Not at the nickname, but the mention of Angel in itself. "He's not coming tonight. Xander called Cordelia to tell her in case she wanted to come to the funeral, but I told him to tell her…not to say anything to Angel. At least until after the funeral."

"Why's that? Thought you'd want the comfort."

My words flow on auto-pilot. I don't care if I'm saying all this to Spike. "I don't think I can look at his face right now. Not after you."

"Say what now?"

I look up into his eyes; his bright blue eyes so full of life and emotion that sometimes I forget that he's a vampire. "You cared. You liked Mom and you cared that she'd died. You didn't laugh in my face or taunt me about it. You helped me. Comforted me. Comforted Dawn. And…Angelus would never have done that. Angelus almost killed Mom one night. He wouldn't care. You both don't have souls, but you care while he never would. That's why Angel's not here. Because if I see his face, it'll just remind me that you care…and that the demon who wears his face never would."

Part of me expects Spike to add some comments of his own about Angel…but he doesn't.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

A pause and then that. Spike is a special kind of vampire – one I could get used to having around.

Before I know what I'm saying, words leave my mouth. "Stay. Sit. Just hold me."

And he does.

* * *

A disturbance outside.

Dawn.

Spike?

I hurry out the back door and see Spike struggling to restrain Dawn. She's supposed to be leaving with Aunt Arlene tomorrow. Why isn't she sleeping?

I see Spike fighting against the chip. I hurry towards them and grab a hold of Dawn. "What's going on?"

"She was gonna try a resurrection spell!" says Spike. "Must've taken a book from the wiccas when she was over there last night."

Resurrection. Bring the dead back to life.

Dawn was going to try and bring Mom back.

"Dawn, no. You can't do this. You have no idea what you're messing with."

I try to pull her inside. She tries to pull away. "I need her! I'm not like you; I don't have anybody!"

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is! Mom died and it's like you don't even _care_!"

It hurts. I can't let it hurt. "I _care_, Dawn. About Mom, about you-"

"Yeah, right! If you really cared about me you wouldn't be shipping me off to Aunt Arlene's!" She turns and faces me with fire in her eyes.

"I'm doing that _because_ I care! I need to figure things out right now and protect you from some crazy Hell bitch who wants to shove you in some mystical lock and _twist_!"

"Cleaning up messes; that's all you do. Sorry if I'm just another _chore_ for you."

_Slap! _

"Buffy!"

I realize what I've done barely a second later, and instantly I regret it.

I try not to cry. I talk instead. "I have to do this, Dawn…I need to keep you safe…and work stuff out so things can be better. I'm sorry if I'm avoiding you, but there's so much I have to do…and I have to keep doing it because if I stop…then she's really _gone_…and I don't know what I'm doing but I'm _trying_, and if you can _please_ understand that and just make things easier…"

We're both crying. We sink to the ground in each other's arms, and Spike stands over us like a wolf protecting his own.

* * *

I expected Angel's call. I didn't expect it to be this nasty.

"_You needed me!_"

"I didn't need you, Angel. I haven't needed you in a long time," I tell him. "I'm the Slayer. I go bump in the night for the things that go bump in the night."

"_You're grieving. You shouldn't be fighting like this._"

I roll my eyes. "I know. I'm not stupid. What I meant was I'm on top of things. I'm coping. Dawn's with my aunt, the gang are all helping, and things are getting better."

"_You're friends aren't good at patrols. Giles maybe, but-_"

"Spike's patrolling." I say it before I can stop myself, and I wince at his expected reaction.

"_Spike? You mean you haven't killed him yet?_"

"He can't hurt people," I explain. "He helps us out because he can't do anything else. And that is _so_ none of your business."

"_Your business is my business, especially when it comes to him._" He's probably vamped. I can hear the snarling.

"Oh my god. Me. Slayer. Handle. Do men not get that? Do they have to physically take charge when women do things that they don't like?" Riley was the same. I didn't see that until he was gone, and now I'm glad he is.

And has Angel always been this condescending? "_I told you that you're not thinking straight. Spike's taking advantage of you. Of all of you. You're letting your guard down, and he'll strike when you least expect it._"

"Sounds more like Angelus to me." I hear him wince. Good. "If only Xander could hear you now. He'd be horrified if he ever found out that he and you have something in common."

"_Buffy-_"

"You didn't see Spike. I _did_," I tell him. "He was with me when I found her. He helped, he cried, he grieved. Like we all did. He started blaming himself for not being here at the right time to save Mom, and probably showed more guilt than you have in a century. He did all that because he cares. Spike may not have a soul, but he has a heart. I doubt even _you_ can deny that."

"_He was loyal to Drusilla. He's undyingly loyal to the people he loves._"

"Exactly." Finally we're getting somewhere. "He loved Mom. He loves Dawn. He loves me-"

I freeze.

Rewind.

_Loves me_.

Like a giant switch, everything clicks into place. Not just what's been happening since Mom died, but things before that. Weird reactions to me, the thing with Riley, the aftermath of the Troll, little actions and words here and there…

And then everything that happened when Mom died.

Oh my god, Spike loves me.

"_Buffy?_"

I barely hear Angel. "I have to go." I hang up before he can reply.

I rewind everything. Every little interaction. Everything he said. Everything points to one simple, scary, mind-blowing conclusion.

Spike. Loves. Me.

I look out the window at the coming dawn. The sun's only just starting to appear. A new day. A new dawn. Life keeps on going.

I still have things to do. Finances to sort out. A Hell-God to defeat. At least now I know there'll be one more person fighting by my side, loyally, until the end.

Only when that's all done – if we all survive, that is – will I think about this. About Spike. What this means for him. For us.

I didn't know there was an 'us' until now.

Now there are things to do. But when that's all over? I'll just have to see, but I'm hopeful.

I watch the sunrise.

* * *

**End Notes**:

_In memory of my father_

_20th May 1957 - 25th January 2015_


End file.
